


Reunion

by angellteeth



Series: Platovember [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, Ford on ice au, Gen, Maybe - Freeform, Platovember, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:46:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27369745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angellteeth/pseuds/angellteeth
Summary: Ford is unfrozen and taken home. It's not quite right. Who are these people? Who is this man claiming to be his brother?
Series: Platovember [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1999222
Comments: 11
Kudos: 30





	Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> so [godlymoss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/godlymoss/pseuds/godlymoss) made an an au that you can read about [here](https://the-gravity-is-falling.tumblr.com)

Ford sat at the couch.

The couch that wasn't his but it was in his house _why was that?_

They said it had been thirty years- _thirty whole fucking years oh god_ -but what if they were lying? He didn't _know_ these people even though they claimed to be family, claimed to be his _brother_ , but they could be lying, working for bill, could just be messing with him for fun.

He couldn't listen to them. It was all too much. He couldn't listen to any of it until he was sure of everything.

The children let up eventually, giving him a blanket and hot chocolate (with glitter?) and going to bed.

The girl had something about fighting the shapeshifter that old man didn't seem to hear.

Speaking of the old man, _he_ refused to let up. He'd leave him alone for a while then come back, saying things and asking questions that Ford barely heard through the mist of paranoia and exhaustion clogging his brain.

_Where were you?_ and _Are you okay?_ and _No that's stupid you're clearly not_ all shooting at him and getting no response but the bloodshot fear and confusion in his eyes.

The old man, he said he was Stanley and he looked like Stanley and he even talked like Stanley but _what if_ , eventually lapsed into silence, sitting next to him and letting him process what had happened.

He'd been cryogenically frozen, by Fiddleford no less, but that was all he was really sure of.

He'd seen that happen, after all.

But after his eyes froze over and he couldn't see anymore, god knows what the truth was. 

He wrung his hands, glancing around the room. The decoration sure was... Something. It all felt like something Stanley would do.

Every aspect of the house that wasn't left over from Ford just exuded Stanley's personality.

But that really wasn't enough to tell. Coincidences happen. They happen a lot. He couldn't just trust some decoration. He had to figure something out but he was having trouble even _talking._

He needed sleep and food but _sleep_ was out of the question until he figured something out so food would just have to be enough for him now.

He just had to get himself to the point where he could just _ask for it_.

He opened and shut his mouth over and over until something came out, however quiet and simple.

"Something to eat?"

It was barely a squeak and definitely not even a full sentence.

The man who he still hesitated to call Stanley nodded and got up, going to the kitchen and coming back in a couple minutes with something microwaved.

Ford's eyes glossed right over it, not even identifying the food before he started scarfing it down without even thinking.

It was the best unidentified food (something with meat?) he'd had in his life.

"Yeesh, slow down before ya choke." The man sat back down.

Ford swallowed hard, halfway through the food already, and slowed down a little, taking more care to chew more carefully.

It was still gone in record time.

"Ya feel better?"

The man took the plate from him, setting it aside.

Ford nodded, hugging the blanket tighter around himself and drinking the last of the, rather shiny, hot chocolate.

He was warming up, however slowly.

That was best, probably. Warming up too fast would just shock his system.

That didn't mean every shiver wasn't endlessly annoying.

"So I still don't know where you've been for the last thirty years. I thought ya were dead, Stanford!"

The man, maybe Stanley, got a little worked up and grabbed him by the shoulder. Ford flinched and shrugged his hand off. He wasn't really in a place to be grabbed.

The man didn't try and touch him again.

Ford chewed on the inside of his lip, working up a response. It didn't feel right to just ignore him all night.

"I've been... I've been fine. Don't worry about it." He forced out an unsatisfying response.

"I _will_ worry about it, Stanford! Ya were gone for thirty years, _dead_ for thirty years and now ya aren't! What am I supposed to do with that?!" 

Apparently the answer was just as irritating as it was unsatisfying.

"You don't need to do anything with it. Just don't worry about it. Where I've been doesn't concern you."

"Of _course_ it concerns me, I'm yer brother ya _numbskull_!"

The man punched the side of the couch in place of shoving Ford. It was only a little better.

"I- How- You- I can even be _sure_ of that! It doesn't concern you until I am!"

The man bit his tongue, breathing hard through his nose. It reminded Ford of a bull. Which reminded him of Stanley.

"Well, how can I _make_ you sure of it." He drummed his fingers on his knee, irritated and impatient. He wanted to get to the explanations and catching up.

Ford wrung his hands some more, cracking his knuckles.

Surely there was something the man could say to prove whether he was or wasn't Stanley.

"Just... Tell me something only Stanley would know. Then... Maybe."

The man, could be Stanley, looked at the ceiling, combing his memory for important events that could prove who he was to Stanford.

"Mm, up until we were fourteen, ya had a picture of Nikola Tesla under yer pillow. Ya kissed it for luck once. Ya probably did that more than once, honestly."

That was. Convincing. It wasn't even something Stanley was supposed to have known.

"Lemme think... For at least the first sixteen years of yer life you'd never seen a goat, ya've got a weird little mole on yer shoulder, and one time ya were so distracted ya walked into a door and broke yer nose."

That was more convincing. All of those memories were half buried in Ford's brain. It was unlikely someone else would have them on hand, right?

But the paranoia ate at his brain anyway.

"Maybe... Maybe. You could be... Maybe." 

He couldn't conclusively say _Yes I believe you_ but he could force out a _Maybe_. 

The man seemed... Dissatisfied. Of course he was.

Ford pulled his hands apart and pat the man on the shoulder. The man looked so much like his brother. Above everybody else he could trust his brother. 

He wanted so much to trust the man. To have his brother and trust him.

The man stared at his hand for a second, before raising his own.

"High six?"

Ford stared at him, eyes wide and bloodshot, and high fived the man, Stanley, with a shaking hand.


End file.
